Roskilde 2011

Saturday

Roskilde Festival is a non-profit. All the money made from the event goes to various causes. Last year's money is being to put use helping victims of last year's flooding in Pakistan, promoting women's rights in Mali, and supporting Palestinian and Israeli children who are working together to create a circus, among many other things. In 1971, when the headliners were British prog-folk band Strawbs, Danish rock band Gasolin', British folkie Mick Softley, and Danish singer Sebastian, the admission fee for the festival was 30DKK, which today converts to $5.81. Today, a full pass is 1725DKK, about $334. But that's not an inflation-adjusted comparison, nor does it take into account the time differences in exchange rates or the explosion in the festival's scope in the meantime.

The festival is mostly volunteer-operated, with only a handful of paid employees (these people work insane hours getting the event together), and even with the massive crowds, copious imbibing, and sprawling, littered campsites, the vibe remains friendly and peaceful. Crowds in Denmark have a different feel from American crowds. They may jostle, but no one seems to get mad, and all the mookish behavior I've seen at the festival never seems to escalate beyond a good time.

Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All [Cosmopol; 3:45 p.m.]

So, your correspondent is an American music critic, and somehow this is the first time he's ever written about Odd Future. I couldn't even get inside the Cosmopol tent for this one, even though I arrived early. A sea of people loitered outside it, and as soon as anyone left the tent, someone else would melt into the crowd that jammed it. When the breeze blew through the tent toward you, you could feel heat coming out of it. The crowd was that wild. They pumped their fists, knew a lot of the lyrics, and gave a "wolf gang" chant so loudly and forcefully that I think even Tyler and his crew were a little stunned. I did see plenty of people leave after trying a song or two, but I think some of them were getting out of the tent because it was too hot and crowded, not because of the music.

I saw two people faint and require help from festival crowd control, who got a compliment from Tyler for their hard work, and for handing out water. You get used to reading all this controversy about the group, so it was refreshing to see them and hear Tyler say, "I care about my fans. I don't want anyone to get hurt." Right before exhorting the crowd to create total chaos during the next song, naturally.

The group veered between mock confrontation and a sort of giddiness about the crowd they were playing to. They seemed genuinely touched that people in Denmark cared this much about them. Tyler had a broken foot, and was obviously frustrated by his confinement to a wheelchair, but he still rapped just fine, and Hodgy, Mike G, and the others tried to make up for the lost motion on stage. I've always been nonplussed by most of the group's lyrics outside of Frank Ocean's LP, and I have no idea how Danes reckon with that stuff, or if they do at all. But Odd Future are good performers regardless, and they deserved their encore.

I saw most of the action in quick glimpses as people in the crowd ahead of me changed position. If I ever cover another festival in a Nordic country, I'm bringing stilts. People are tall here.

Ililta Band [Pavilion; 4:50 p.m.]

After Odd Future I made the short trek through the mud (it rained overnight) to the Pavilion, where the Ex were curating the whole afternoon. Based on their past collaborations, I trust the Ex's judgment, and they did not let me down. Ililta Band are a trio from Addis Ababa, playing traditional Ethiopian instruments in a modern style. Group leader Chalachew Ashenafi sings and plays masinko, a one-stringed violin, and he's joined by vocalist and krar player Mesele Asmamaw and kebero drummer Mesele Legesse.

They are funky as hell, and the crowd was dancing. Asmamaw plays electric krar, which is a type of lyre, and he runs it through a little distortion and a wah pedal, and he can create a hell of a groove on it. This is the type of act that sets Roskilde apart and is something I wouldn't have known existed otherwise. I couldn't have predicted it would be one of the best things I saw at the festival.

TV on the Radio [Arena; 6:00 p.m.]

Arena had a full house for TV on the Radio, who brought along a trombone player and actually gave him quite a lot to do, even though he wasn't always audible through the dense guitar tones. Actually, if there's anything I'd change about TV on the Radio's live sound, it would be to make it less dense-- when two rhythm guitars are going at once with those digital distortion tones, they can throw a curtain over other sounds. When you have great songs and excellent singers in your band, a sparser live sound is usually better for getting that across, and some songs were too crowded.

The songs with more space in the arrangements sounded good, though, and the breakneck version of "Dancing Choose" was inspired. I watched a lot of the show from near the handicapped platform, which is something a few of the stages have-- it basically allows people in wheelchairs to see over the rest of the crowd, and it's a nice touch on the part of the organizers.

After TV on the Radio, I literally ran back to Pavilion to see if I could catch any of the Ex's own set, with trumpeter Roy Paci guesting, and thankfully I got there in time to hear them close their show with a wild take on "24 Problems". The Ex may have the best sense of rhythm of any punk band ever.

James Blake [Cosmopol; 8:00 p.m.]

The sun came out when I was at Cosmopol for Odd Future, and it lingered for much of the afternoon, but was decisively defeated by a thunderstorm as James Blake's set came to a close at the same tent.

Blake has a tough task at a festival, taking what is essentially bedroom music suited to close listening to a huge crowd, but this audience knew his work. They'd cheer at the first bleep or two of each song. At first, he stuck to more abstract, sparse material, and the incredibly loud set by the Arctic Monkeys on Orange Stage (see below) threatened to swallow him whole when he didn't have that rattling sub-bass going, which is of course not his fault. He seemed to sense this, or at least had a very lucky set list planned, because apart from "Limit to Your Love", the second half of his set was generally dancier and more geared toward movement.

Even so, before the clouds moved in so quickly at the end, this was a set that I think felt better sitting on the grass and taking it in than it did standing shoulder-to-shoulder and chest-to-back with others in a hot, smoky tent. And it's not as though his show has some visual element you miss being outside-- it's one dude with some equipment, standing in one place in the dark. The focus is on the sound, though he engaged the crowd well between songs with friendly banter.

About those Arctic Monkeys: they had the good fortune to finish before the thunder and lightning moved in. It takes so long to walk past Orange Stage that I heard them do two full songs ("Cryin' Lightning" and "Brick By Brick") as I was passing by on the way to Cosmopol. They were sharp, and really sounded like a big stage headliner.

After the thunderstorm, large swaths of the festival grounds were covered in mud. It's a particularly nasty sort, too. First you slip on it, then the suction kicks in and it's hard to pull your foot back out. I'm assured that the mud in 2007 was much worse, though.

I crossed the Odeon Delta for Congotronics vs. Rockers, a massive, 19-member band featuring Juana Molina and members of Konono No. 1, Kasai All Stars, Deerhoof, Wildbirds & Peacedrums, and Skeletons. They had five guitars, two electric likembes, a giant marimba, two basses, seven percussion setups, ranging from full drum kits to a single junkyard cymbal, a keyboard, and a ton of microphones for vocals. Not all of it was always going at once, but it was something to see.

It's inspiring that veteran Congolese bands have been embraced so thoroughly in Western music circles and have returned the embrace. It's amazing to consider how much they're challenging themselves creatively after decades of making essentially the same music in Kinshasa. The mud didn't keep the crowd away, and there was a lot of dancing, both on stage and off. It was the kind of set that makes you feel good about things, and the wide-ranging fusion of rumba, Congolese street rhythm, indie rock, psychedelia, and assorted other genres felt natural-- this was much more directly collaborative than the Congotronics vs. Rockers album, and they played songs that will be familiar to fans of the Congotronics series as well as new material that reflected all the creative input coming from different quarters. It was a fantastic set overall, an hour and a half that simply flew by and left a positive charge in the crowd.

Lykke Li [Arena; 1:30 a.m.]

Odeon and Arena are at opposite corners of the festival grounds, and my muddy trek took me past Cosmopol, where Fally Ipupa's highlife band was playing an ebullient set to a small crowd. Lykke Li's stage set-up was nothing if not stylish. Everything was black and she even draped herself with a sheer black veil during one song. I pretty much hated her first album, but I think Wounded Rhymes is a much better record and a huge creative leap, and the show was quite a bit beyond even the LP. I didn't expect to get quite so swept up in it.

She had a crack band, and I wish I knew the name of her drummer so I could compliment him by name here. She actually does a little drumming herself during the show. There's a snare and cymbal set out in the middle of the stage for her to play while she sings, which added a nice dynamic to her performance. I thought the show lost momentum on the slower songs, but overall I was impressed, and for the fans, who were almost a home crowd for the Swedish singer, the whole set was a sing-along, sway-along occasion.